


Mine

by 324b2fun



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Established Relationship, F/F, Fluff and Smut, Jealousy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-28
Updated: 2021-01-28
Packaged: 2021-03-14 19:13:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,978
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29051199
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/324b2fun/pseuds/324b2fun
Summary: They say jealousy is a green-eyed monster. How fitting, Dorothea thinks.
Relationships: Dorothea Arnault/Ingrid Brandl Galatea
Comments: 3
Kudos: 64





	Mine

**Author's Note:**

> i just think jealous dorothea is a Concept

It’s been a long day for Dorothea. Although she was not on the frontlines this time, she has been rushing back and forth to help heal and tend to the injured. Healing is not even Dorothea’s strength, but she’s decent enough at it that she offers to help. It’s a grueling kind of day, different from fighting herself, but just as bad all the same. 

Stretching her arms over her head, Dorothea bids Mercedes farewell and tells her she will see her later. The worst of the battle is over now with all of the injured treated and resting. Now, all Dorothea wants is to relax and see her lover. 

It’s as Dorothea heads to her old dorm room that she hears a tinkling voice say, “I suppose we should start calling you Sir Ingrid now. It certainly fits, doesn’t it?” 

The words make Dorothea pause for a brief moment before she quickly rounds the corner. Standing just in front of their room is Ingrid, disheveled from today’s skirmish but offering a smile nonetheless to a woman Dorothea recognizes from the kitchens. Flora is her name, if Dorothea recalls correctly. Not that her name really matters because all Dorothea can focus on is the way she has a hand on Ingrid’s arm as she leans in close and laughs in a practiced manner that Dorothea is all too familiar with. The sight makes Dorothea’s jaw clench just before she plasters on a smile and calls, “My Ingrid!”

Ingrid may have already been smiling, but when she looks up and sees Dorothea, she’s as radiant as the sun. It never fails to make Dorothea flush in pleasure at seeing Ingrid so happy to see her. “Dorothea, good evening,” Ingrid replies, a warmth in her voice that’s saved for her and her alone. 

“Good evening,” Dorothea says as she stops beside Ingrid. Not too close to make Ingrid uncomfortable but closer than mere acquaintances. Making the move as casual as possible, Dorothea licks her thumb and gently rubs at a smudge of dirt on Ingrid’s cheek. Dorothea teases gently, “Look at you, my Ingrid. You could use a good wash before dinner.”

Ingrid turns an endearing shade of red as her eyes flick over to Flora. She looks back to Dorothea but makes no move to stop her. Dorothea barely holds back a triumphant smile as she drops her hand. Feigning surprise, she turns to the other woman, saying, “Oh, Flora. Hello! How are you?”

“Well, thank you for asking,” Flora replies with a slight nod of her head. Her eyes go between Dorothea and Ingrid before she says carefully, “I had not realized the two of you were close.”

“Us?” Dorothea hums. She flicks her hair over her shoulder and places a hand on Ingrid’s arm, not entirely unlike how Flora’s had been. “Yes, we’ve been quite close since our school days.” Dorothea chooses her words carefully. It wouldn’t do to make Ingrid uncomfortable; the other woman has always been very private. 

Ingrid bobs her head and adds, “Dorothea has been a very good friend to me.” 

When the words leave her mouth, Dorothea could almost groan in frustration. Instead, her smile turns brittle as she fights the urge to sigh. Ingrid, even after all this time, is still woefully oblivious. Does she even realize how platonic that sounds? How that can easily be misconstrued as friends and nothing more?

Before Ingrid, or Goddess forbid Flora, can say anything else, Dorothea wraps her hand around Ingrid’s arm and says, “Anyways, we should get going if Ingrid is to wash up before dinner. It was lovely seeing you, Flora.”

“You as well,” Flora says, inclining her head. She flashes a shy smile at Ingrid and adds, “Lovely seeing you, Sir Ingrid.”

Dorothea’s jaw clenches while Ingrid laughs off the title and tells Flora to have a good night. Ingrid doesn’t notice her mood, not at first. She merely walks back to Dorothea’s old dorm room with her hand holding Dorothea’s. The door shuts behind them, and Dorothea stays there while Ingrid moves further into the room. It’s not until Ingrid has shed her armor that she seems to realize that Dorothea hasn’t said anything since Flora left them.

“Is something wrong, love?” Ingrid asks, walking back to her. Her fingers brush against Dorothea’s cheek, a concerned frown marring her features.

“Does Flora speak with you often?” Dorothea can’t help but ask. 

Ingrid looks confused by the question, but answers it nonetheless. “I suppose that depends on what you mean by often,” Ingrid says, “but we do talk at least once daily, whether it be in the dining hall or when we are in the halls.” Ingrid’s frown deepens as she asks, “Is something wrong with Flora? Is she in trouble?”

“Not that I know of,” Dorothea replies. She bites her lip. It’s ridiculous to even say aloud, but she cannot deny the awful feeling in her gut. They say jealousy is a green-eyed monster. How fitting, Dorothea thinks. Dorothea takes a deep breath and says carefully, “I just noticed she seems rather fond of you.”

“Yes,” Ingrid agrees slowly, clearly not understanding what Dorothea is implying. Goddess, she’s always been the type not to understand until you blatantly state something. Dorothea sometimes finds that particular trait endearing, but this time it is nothing but aggravating. Ingrid must pick up on her quickly souring mood because she says, “Is that a problem?”

Dorothea glances away and says, “You don’t find anything strange with the way she acts around you?”

“Strange?” Ingrid repeats.

Dorothea almost rolls her eyes. She loves her lovely Ingrid, she does. 

“Dorothea, what’s–”

“She was flirting with you!” Dorothea finally snaps. She rolls her eyes to the ceiling and sighs at how immature she’s being. Then again, it’s not like she’s even been in a position to be jealous. She was always the one with people flocking towards. If anything, she was the one people were jealous of. Not to mention, she’s never cared about anyone in the past the way she does with Ingrid. Speaking of… 

Ingrid blinks, once then twice. She rubs the back of her neck and replies, “She was?” It’s impossible to tell if she’s embarrassed or pleased, but for the sake of her sanity, Dorothea deems it as the former. Ingrid shakes her head and says, “Dorothea, I’m sure you were mistaken.”

“Was I?” Dorothea says, and she can tell by the way Ingrid flinches that she isn’t quite able to keep the sharpness out of her voice. After a pause, Dorothea deflates and rubs at her temples, letting her shoulders fall into a slouch. “I’m sorry, my Ingrid. Perhaps I am just tired from today’s events.”

“I understand,” Ingrid says softly, and Dorothea barely stops herself from replying, “Do you?” Instead, she smiles and lets Ingrid press a gentle kiss to her knuckles. She shouldn’t let this ruin what precious time she has with Ingrid. Why waste it being petty and angry? It’s not worth it. Not when they face death every day in one way or another. 

“Please, relax,” Ingrid murmurs. She kisses Dorothea on the lips briefly before giving her that charming little half-smile of hers. “I won’t massage those knots you cause yourself if you don’t.”

“You won’t?” Dorothea pouts. She tugs her closer, stealing another kiss. “Not even if I ask nicely?”

Ingrid chuckles, “Depends on how nicely.”

Dorothea’s lips curve into a pleased smile as she moves even closer, wrapping her arms around Ingrid’s neck. She dips her head and captures Ingrid’s lips in a sweet, slow kiss. When she pulls away, Ingrid follows. They trade heated kisses until Dorothea finally pulls away with a breathless laugh. She playfully bumps her nose against Ingrid’s and murmurs, “Was that nice enough?”

“I might need a little more convincing,” Ingrid says, moving them in the direction of the bed. 

“We’re going to be late to dinner,” Dorothea feels the need to point out. She hasn’t been with Ingrid this long without knowing the need to appease the other woman’s voracious appetite for food. 

Ingrid just smiles and pushes Dorothea down onto the bed. She presses a feather light kiss against her lips and says, “Ashe knows by now to save me a plate or two when I don’t arrive on time.”

“In that case…”

Dorothea swiftly rolls them over so she’s pinning Ingrid down onto the bed. It’s a little difficult to maneuver in her dress, but Dorothea has certainly done this enough to be able to nudge her knee between Ingrid’s thigh as she leans down to kiss her. Ingrid’s hands are quick to go for the buttons of her dress, just as Dorothea’s more slender fingers go for her shirt.

When Dorothea moves away, she revels in the small whimper Ingrid lets out. She grins devilishly as she slips off the bed to let her dress fall to the floor. Ingrid’s eyes immediately drop to drink in the sight of her body, eyes fixed on Dorothea’s hands as they take off her undergarments. Ingrid doesn’t get the chance to admire Dorothea’s naked body for as long as she’d like because Dorothea is back on her in an instant. Dorothea tugs the last bits of clothing off Ingrid and presses her lips to Ingrid’s ear.

“I’m going to make you scream my name,” Dorothea tells her in a husky murmur. She pulls back to smirk the flush that overtakes Ingrid’s entire body at her words. “Scream until your voice is hoarse,” Dorothea adds before nipping her lower lip.

“Goddess,” Ingrid breathes out. One of her hands grabs at Dorothea’s ass while the other moves over her back, rough and warm, sending a tingle down Dorothea’s spine. “Dorothea–”

Whatever she was going to say is replaced by a moan as Dorothea presses a wet kiss to Ingrid’s throat. She works her way down her neck, stopping right over her pulse. Dorothea knows Ingrid doesn’t prefer it when Dorothea leaves marks. It’s unprofessional, Ingrid will argue, especially since she doesn’t always remember to apply make-up to cover it. Knowing this, Dorothea usually avoids leaving marks when she can, but tonight, she has different plans.

Dorothea bites down on the skin just over Ingrid’s pulse, just hard enough that Ingrid jolts with a cry. Her hands tangle themselves in Dorothea’s curls as Dorothea soothes the mark with her tongue before sucking on it. She doesn’t move on from the spot until she’s sure what’s left behind will be there for days. With a pleased smile, Dorothea continues downwards, trailing kisses down Ingrid’s body.

Just before she reaches Ingrid’s center, Dorothea surges back up and kisses Ingrid hard. She eagerly swallows Ingrid’s gasp, pressing her fingers against her slick thighs. Ingrid bucks her hips, moaning into the kiss as her fingers dig into Dorothea’s back. Her nails are always short and blunt, a necessity as a soldier, but nonetheless, Dorothea wants Ingrid to hold her so tightly that she digs crescents into her back. 

“Oh, my Ingrid,” Dorothea hums. “You’re already so wet for me.”

“Don’t tease,” Ingrid says, voice strained, as her hips move against Dorothea’s idle hand. “Not today. Dorothea, I need you.”

Dorothea can’t help but smile, pressing a light kiss to the corner of Ingrid’s lips. “Me?” Dorothea replies. She knows it’s cruel to tease her just after Ingrid asked her not to, but she doesn’t intend to drag this out. 

“Dorothea,” Ingrid says, something between a moan and a grunt. Her eyes slam shut as Dorothea pushes two fingers into her. Her jaw drops just so, and Dorothea savors the sight of Ingrid at her mercy. “Goddess, Dorothea… Please.”

Ducking down to Ingrid’s chest, Dorothea presses kisses along her breasts before sinking her teeth into the top of one. Ingrid moans, her nails pressing more firmly into Dorothea’s skin, seeking for something to steady her. Dorothea smirks against her skin and moves her hand while Ingrid matches her pace eagerly.

“You’re being so good for me,” Dorothea tells her softly. She presses her lips to Ingrid’s, muffling her groan. She curls her fingers, smiling slightly at the way Ingrid’s hips jolt against her hand. She quickens her thrusts and ducks her head to kiss Ingrid’s neck. 

“I’m close, Thea,” Ingrid manages to say, voice thick with need.

“Good,” Dorothea hums. She pulls back and takes in the sight of Ingrid, flushed and panting. She feels a thrill knowing that no one else knows how Ingrid looks when she’s like this. Wanting. She brushes her thumb against Ingrid’s clit, making the blonde whine. “You know what I want,” Dorothea says. “I want to hear you scream my name.”

And Ingrid does. When she comes, her nails dig into Dorothea’s back and scrape against her skin in tandem with her shouts. Ingrid will argue she doesn’t have a pretty voice, but her voice is melodious as she comes, crying out Dorothea’s name.

As soon as Ingrid comes down from her high, she’s slipping a hand between Dorothea’s thighs and kissing her hard. Dorothea melts into her touch, even as she says, “Ingrid, dinner–”

“I’ll make this quick,” Ingrid says, voice rough and low, making Dorothea shiver.

Not long after, the two of them make their way to the dining hall in fresh clothes. Dorothea is sure there must still be a flush to her skin, but she must hope that no one will say anything. Just as Ingrid said, there was not only a plate saved for her, but Dorothea as well. Dorothea gives Ashe their thanks as they sit down across from him and Felix. 

“No problem,” Ashe says with a warm smile. “I always make sure everyone gets their share, especially all of our friends. I know how hard you work every day.”

“That’s very kind of you,” Dorothea replies as she takes a bite of the potatoes. 

“Yes, thank you,” Ingrid nods. “Dinner is delicious as always.”

The three of them talk while Felix merely listens, only occasionally offering his opinion. It’s when Ashe disappears to grab them some fruit for dessert that Sylvain appears, taking up the seat Ashe had been sitting in.

“Ladies, nice to see you,” Sylvain says as he plops down. He props his head up on his fist and asks, “Did I miss anything?”

“Dinner,” Ingrid says flatly.

“I’m sure Ashe saved you some,” Dorothea adds. Before she can say more, Sylvain perks up and says, “Flora, hi!”

Dorothea tenses as Flora makes her way to their table. Although Sylvain is the one who called her over, Flora only has eyes for Ingrid.

“Hello, how was the food?” Flora asks with a bright smile. 

“Fine,” Felix says shortly. 

“Haven’t had any,” Sylvain says.

Flora nods and looks imploringly at Ingrid, even though Dorothea is also there, and asks, “Ingrid, how did you enjoy the food?”

“It was very nice,” Ingrid tells her with a smile. “Thank you for all of your hard work in the kitchens. I don’t know where we’d be without those of you who cook.”

“Starved, probably,” Sylvain laughs. He winks and adds, “Especially if we had to eat Dorothea’s cooking.”

Dorothea blushes and huffs, “Oh, as if you’re any better, Sylvain.”

Sylvain goes to reply when he suddenly stops, staring at Ingrid. Slowly, a smirk pulls at his lips, and Dorothea immediately knows what he’s seen. By chance, Ingrid had chosen to wear a high-collared shirt to dinner, but if she moved just so, the mark Dorothea left behind could be seen. It’s just her luck that Sylvain was there to see it since everyone else would most likely be too polite to comment, especially with Flora there.

“I see you two got busy before dinner,” Sylvain says with a raised eyebrow. He leans forward and says, “Tell me, Ingrid, how did you manage two meals?”

Dorothea barely holds back a snort while Ingrid says, “What on earth are you talking about?”

Sylvain just grins and pointedly taps his neck. Almost in unison, everyone, including Flora, turns to stare at Ingrid’s neck where the clear mark of Dorothea’s teeth can be seen among the bruise forming there.

It takes a moment, but then Ingrid is slapping a hand over her neck. She turns to her lover, hissing, “Dorothea, you didn’t.”

“I was caught up in the moment, love,” Dorothea says innocently, trying her best to sound chastised and probably failing.

“Dorothea,” is all Ingrid says as she sighs, and Dorothea almost smiles at the fact that she sounds resigned instead of angry. 

“Y-you two are…”

Everyone sitting at the table turns to look at Flora, who still stands there. Her face is bright red, and her eyes are wide, flicking between Ingrid and Dorothea as it sinks in. 

“You two are together?” Flora all but squeaks.

Surprisingly, it’s Felix who answers. He scoffs and says, “Of course they are. They’re disgusting together.”

“Aww, aren’t you the sweetest, Fee,” Dorothea teases. Felix just glares at her and lifts his dinner knife threateningly.

Sylvain puts his hand on Felix’s wrist and lowers it without batting an eyelash. Then, he flashes a grin at Flora and says, “Yes, those two have been together for some time.”

“I had no idea,” Flora says in a small voice. “You never mentioned,” she adds, looking at Ingrid.

Ingrid blinks at her, “You never asked.”

Dorothea feels validated in the fact that Sylvain rolls his eyes at this the way Dorothea wants to

“Right,” Flora says slowly. She stares at them for a moment before saying, “I should get going. Have a good night.”

As soon as she’s gone, Ingrid turns to Dorothea and says accusingly, “You left that there on purpose for her to see, didn’t you?”

“Did I?” Dorothea says, smiling. 

“You’re evil,” Ingrid says flatly.

“No, love,” Dorothea laughs. “Just jealous.”

  
  
  
  



End file.
